


Looking At You

by FairyLights101



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Graduation, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 11:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: "My name is Yamagata Hayato - I’m the third-year libero. Let me know if you ever need anything, okay?”In hindsight, those words and the way he’d grown so pathetically flustered at that, at how Yamagata had brushed his shoulder with rough fingertips should have been the first warning sign.





	Looking At You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All_My_Characters_Are_Dead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead/gifts).



> So I wanted to write something for Em, who's a super cool nerd I got the honors of meeting recently and is super super cool, and I highly recommend you go check out her fics and scream at her!

_ “My name is Yamagata Hayato - I’m the third-year libero. Let me know if you ever need anything, okay?”  _

In hindsight, those words and the way he’d grown so pathetically flustered at that, at how Yamagata had brushed his shoulder with rough fingertips should have been the first warning sign. The others had come later, but he’d ignored them, blissfully unaware of what they meant, what they would lead to. Instead, Goshiki had thrown himself head-first into the bustling life of Shiratorizawa, busting his ass in the classroom so he could stand on the court and work even harder there. And, as he did, he  _ learned,  _ about the sport he loved so dearly, and his teammates too between the drills, the practice matches, the games, the changing room interactions, the weekend bonding moments, and study hall sessions. 

Tendou, who liked to play pranks, who’d had a bowl cut too, and who sometimes seemed a little sad until Semi came over and ground his knuckles into Tendou’s cherry-red hair, bringing a grin to his face. 

Shirabu, who always had a sharp remark for him, but between those were subtler congratulations and other compliments -  _ “Good job”  _ and  _ “Nice serve”  _ uttered under his breath, sometimes louder if he managed to break through even Tendou’s monstrous block. 

Reon, and how he was calm, cool, collected, except for that time when Tendou had put a realistic-looking rubber snake into his bag, and Reon had screamed and leapt up into the air before Ushijima had realized it was fake, and Reon had chucked it at Tendou, who’d fallen to the floor, screaming in laughter. 

But, most of all, he’d learned about Yamagata. He liked sea urchin on rice,  _ especially _ if there was super-spicy hot sauce he could dump on it, enough that only Kawanishi had managed a few bites before he’d pushed away in tears. He could be serious, just like Reon, but whenever something cool happened, there was always a grin that lit up his face, radiant - another warning sign should have been when Goshiki had gotten his first spike past Tendou, and he’d watched Yamagata, opposite of him, dive to try and stop it, only to miss and pop back up with that brilliant grin that had made Goshiki’s heart trip a little too hard to have been healthy. 

He’d also learned that Yamagata liked classical music - it helped him calm down from intense games and practices, and also gave him something to focus on whenever he was upset. He knew how to play the piano, but had never been the best because his fingers weren’t quite suited for it. He had two dogs - Bambi and Thumper. 

But, perhaps the most startling, was what he’d learned about himself. Namely, the fact that, somewhere between the beginning of the year and that light introduction with that firm hand on his shoulder to now, standing there and watching the graduation ceremony, he’d fallen for the third year with the breathtaking smiles and the calloused hands and the coarse, spiky hair who always challenged him to races and push up contests, who always encouraged him to do his homework when all he wanted to do was  _ sleep,  _ who- 

Goshiki shook his head, rubbed his hand across his face and drew in a slow breath, eyes closed. He could hear the principal speaking, voice echoing through the gymnasium. He hadn’t heard a word since the whole ceremony had started, too lost in  _ what ifs  _ and  _ maybes.  _

_ Maybe,  _ if he’d said something sooner, he’d know for certain that this wouldn’t mean the end of their friendship, that they’d see each other and talk almost every day. 

_ What if _ he’d told Yamagata he loved him all those months ago, when he’d first realized it, after the loss to Karasuno when Yamagata had seen him sobbing, barely holding on, and had stepped in without a word, pulling him close, and hadn’t said a word when Goshiki had dug his fingers into the back of the shirt, when he’d gotten snot and spit and tears all over his jersey. He’d only held Goshiki tight and stroked his hair, chin fitting neatly on Goshiki’s shoulder, his forehead pressed to Yamagata’s, and, at some point, his only thought had been  _ oh,  _ followed by a realization of  _ he’s so warm _ and  _ he feels so nice.  _ Steady, solid. Like he could weather through a thousand storms and still come out on the other side looking as good as he had before it had started. 

Would Yamagata have accepted it? Taken his declaration of love - probably poorly worded if Goshiki was truly honest with himself - and shared one of his own, and maybe kissed him, or at least held his hand? Or would he have gently let Goshiki down, carefully wording a rejection that had seemed so inevitable, always, because who in their right mind would love him like that? 

Goshiki shook his head, let his hands fall to his knees and curled them into fists, nails biting into his palms. He glanced up, scanned across the crowd. He could see Shirabu seated a few rows ahead, up with his class. Further along were some of the other second and first year regulars from the team. He could pick out some classmates, some guys from the baseball team, the girl he’d dated for three weeks before he’d really settled on the concept of being too gay to function, mostly for someone by the name of  _ Yamagata Hayato.  _

Up on the stage, dressed in sharp, clean blacks, were the third-years, soon to be, well, whatever they planned on. Ushijima, scouted by a pro team, looked cooler than cucumbers, eyes focused ahead, steady and still. A little further along he could see Tendou, hair slicked back rather than spiked up for once, his eyes wide and head twitching around, no doubt ready to get out of the ceremony and get ready to head to the small animation studio he’d managed to get into. Semi, hair freshly bleached, tips recently dyed back to perfection, looked bored out of his mind, but Goshiki knew that he was excited to get out, to start cosmetology school. 

But, in the end, his eyes were drawn to Yamagata, his hair as wildly spiky as normal, eyes fixed ahead. He didn’t look excited to be graduating, to finally be done - he almost looked  _ constipated. I wonder what’s wrong.  _ His head turned slightly, eyes roaming the crowd, and then they settled on Goshiki. Yamagata’s dark eyes visibly widened despite the distance, and Goshiki had to bite his cheek to stop from grinning. Instead, he gave a shy smile - and a small prayer that his face wasn’t glowing eighty different shades of red - and raised his hand in a little wave. Yamagata’s hand crept him, fingers wiggling. 

Goshiki sucked down a breath and-  _ oh, there’s the blush.  _ In the already hot gym, it made him hotter, fresh sweat beading up on his forehead as he stared, caught like a deer in headlights. He could see Yamagata grin, and Goshiki buried his face into his hands, shaking his head as he tried to ignore the stare he could practically feel, tried desperately to forget that sweet, beautiful smile. He wanted to shoot up, wanted to stop the principal mid-speech and charge up to the podium and tell the entire school how much he loved Yamagata, how wonderful and amazing and handsome and wonderful and-  _ ah, I said wonderful twice. And that’s not even a good idea. Stupid Tsutomu, stupid.  _

He shook his head, sat upright, and kept his eyes firmly on the principal. Well, for all of ten seconds anyways before they slid back and found Yamagata. The libero winked. Goshiki closed his eyes and sent a dozen more prayers out, this time to any god that might be above and listening, before he opened his eyes. 

Thankfully, the last speech wrapped up quickly, and within minutes they were calling out names, handing out diplomas for the students to accept. The class was three-hundred strong, and after what felt like an eternity in the heat and near-total silence with wave-like whispers from the students all around, Yamagata’s name was finally called, and then they finally finished the ceremony. The ex-third years filtered down into the audience, mingling with the other students, faculty, and their parents, but Goshiki didn’t linger. He worked his way out, sliding through the clusters of people until he burst out into one of the cool hallways outside, the lack of warmth and humidity and body odor a relief. 

That, and the fact that he’d finally escaped that painfully beautiful smile. That was good too. 

Goshiki shook his head, slapped his cheeks gently.  _ Stop thinking about it. It’s pointless now.  _ Goshiki turned, shoes clicking on the floor, the clamor from the gym fading away as he made his way through the halls. He didn't stop until he found himself by the art building, standing on the path between it and the main building. The cherry blossom trees were in full bloom, blanketing the ground with their fragile pink petals, shivering in the faint wind that worked through the courtyard. 

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine a hundred scenes from beneath that tree. 

One where Tendou had climbed into the branches overhead and tossed seeds at them until Yamagata had grabbed an orange and chucked it at him, nailing him in the head. 

Or the time where Goshiki had sprained his right hand, so holding chopsticks was hard, so Yamagata had teased him by holding out bites of food for Goshiki in his own chopsticks. 

Or where he'd been tired, worn out from an early morning practice combined with a late night of studying had wiped him out, and Yamagata had tugged at his shoulders until he'd spilled into the libero’s lap, and those coarse fingers had settled into his hair, petting in a way that had almost been reverent. 

And the day when Goshiki and Yamagata had been eating out there alone, everyone else busy with clubs or classwork and other things, and Goshiki had turned, found Yamagata waiting, and had frozen as his friend leaned in and-  _ Wait, no, that was a dream.  _ Goshiki slapped his hands to his cheeks, harsher this time, and the smack resounded through the air as he shook his head angrily.  _ Stop. All of that doesn't matter. Hayato is going, and he probably doesn't even-  _

A click made him freeze and he spun around, eyes wide as he stared at the main building's door. Yamagata stood there, hands behind his back, pink sitting high in his cheeks as he smiled. “Hey, Tsutomu.” 

Goshiki snapped up straight, a startled smile blooming as he turned. “H-Hayato! Hi! How are you? You look awesome in the graduation uniform! I bet it was so boring up there, I know it was in the audience. But at least you're over now, and soon you'll get to go to Tokyo and play for your team. Well, I mean, you'll be a first year, so that might be a little hard, b-but you're amazing enough and everything that I'm sure you'll get the position soon, and-” 

“Tsutomu.” 

His mouth hung open for a moment before it snapped shut, eyes wide as he nodded frantically. Yamagata chuckled and stepped forward, slow and steady, closing the distance, until they were close.  _ Too _ close. Enough that Goshiki could smell the spiciness of his cologne, that he could see the smatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Goshiki was  _ almost _ certain he stopped breathing for a minute. 

“Tsutomu,” Yamagata said again, voice lower, somehow even smoother than before, filled with melodies of promise and uncertainty. His eyes twitched, flicked away, but they were back in an instant as he reached out, hand hesitating over Goshiki's shoulder before he let it trail down, whispering across the teen’s arm and sending shivers through him until Yamagata found his hand. Their fingers slipped together, Goshiki's heart leaping, face burning as he gaped at Yamagata, words utterly failing him. His friend smiled and raised his other hand, fingers uncurling. A small black button lay in his palm. Goshiki's eyes shot to Yamagata’s uniform, to the second button from the top.  _ Missing,  _ tattered threads in its place. 

“Tsutomu,” Yamagata whispered, Goshiki's eyes already on fire, throat painfully thick and tight, “Is it too late to ask you to be mine?” 

Tears spilled out, unbidden, but Goshiki could only fling himself forward, sobbing as he wrapped his arms around Yamagata, squeezing him tight as those familiar, steady arms wrapped around him, pulled him closer, curled into his hair as Yamagata pressed a soft kiss to his nose and leaned back, cheeks a brighter red than Tendou’s hair. 

“Sorry for taking so long?” 

Goshiki could only shake his head, disbelief and pure  _ ecstasy  _ spinning through him as he leaned close once more, laughter bubbling through his throat, dancing through the air.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, leave a comment, and shoot me a message or follow at [fairylights101writes on tumblr](http://fairylights101writes.tumblr.com)


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